


Understanding

by TheBestRain19



Series: No War Should Be Fought Alone [2]
Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBestRain19/pseuds/TheBestRain19
Summary: Bitter truths are hard to swallow, even to one so tormented as Talion.





	Understanding

_ “Isildur’s Ring weighs heavy. It whispers to me like a lover, a jailer, but I will not submit.”-Talion  _

Talion was watching, watching one of his mystics practice his dark incantations and curses. After becoming the bearer of Isildur’s own ring of power, the ranger gained a new sort of appreciation for the Mystic tribe, and the dedication they put into their work. The ring gave him the knowledge and energy necessary to raise his revenants and captains, but the orcs who became necromancers didn’t have such an advantage. They  _ earned  _ their status and power, with practice and focus.

He could respect that, even in an orc.

“My lord,” a rather quiet voice called out, “is there something you need from me?”

Talion brought himself out of his musings, laying his eyes on the warchief he had been observing. The orc in question had burning orange-red eyes, with black veins across his veins and torso, an indicator of the curse he carried. There was actually very little armor covering his vital organs, only a thick, almost collar-like necklace of bone in order to protect his head. 

Talion shook his head, and responded, “No, Zarth. I simply watched you practice your craft. Nothing more.”

The response came out harsher than the Dark Ranger intended, but the whispers from Isildur’s Ring on his finger hadn’t ceased all day, hadn’t even decreased in volume. Surprisingly enough, the orc didn’t take offense, nor did he cower away. He only smiled.

“It’s an honor to have you take notice, my lord. Do you often listen to the dead, as I do?”

Talion frowned in confusion and asked, “What do you mean ‘listen’ exactly?”

Zarth’s eyes lit up, both figuratively and literally. His eyes flashed a brilliant emerald, and he began to gesture almost frantically. “Come then, my lord! You must learn to listen, and to appreciate the dead!”

Talion had a scathing response that nearly left his lips, but held it in once he saw that there was no deception in the orc’s eyes, nothing in his demeanor that would cause suspicion. So instead of losing his temper (something the Ring wasn’t exactly helping with), he gave a small smile and nodded.

Zarth looked at him, eyes still shining a radiant green, and spoke softly, “When you raise the revenants around you, it’s only a corpse, animated by dark magics. Reach out with your mind, feel the death, the people who once had hopes and dreams.”

Talion, slowly,  _ reached out,  _ and after some time, heard faint voices, voices that were once living, but were now mostly unheard. Mutterings, really, but they were  _ there.  _ The man looked back up at Zarth to see the orc practically beaming, and the Ranger couldn’t resist the chuckle that escaped his lips. Nor could he prevent the frown that came from a startling realization that the friendly orc next to him also knew: Zarth would never be able to live his own life. 

Talion would eventually fall to Darkness, would join the Nine and lose whatever humanity he has left. When that time came, the orcs under his command would either rejoin the Dark Lord, or die by his own hand. 

It was inevitable. Unavoidable. 

Talion turned and strode away, hatred and sorrow burning in his heart as he mourned. For Sauron, he held nothing but contempt. Celebrimbor, he both missed and hated. He mourned the man he once was, the husband and father he was. Isildur’s ring whispered that everything would be alright. 

He hated that it helped.


End file.
